Never Again
by L.B.Wolfe
Summary: "Just one round. Just to see if we've got any guts." Six boys. One gun. Five survivors. One sick, twisted game that all started with a single bullet. Warning: Character death!


**Author's note: I was in a rather angst-y mood when I wrote this story, so it's the darkest one I've ever written and possibly ever will write. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.**

Five boys watch in silence as a sixth boy carefully loads a single bullet into the gun. He holds the weapon up to his black-haired head and, taking a deep breath, pulls the trigger.

_Click_

The breath escapes from his lips in a relieved sigh. He hadns the gun to the next boy, a boy with dark blond hair. With trembling hands, the boy accepts the gun. He points it at himself and, he too, pulls the trigger.

_Click_

He lets out a giddy laugh of relief. A boy with dark brown hair steps forward. It is his turn in this grisly game. _Lub-dub_. _Lub-dub_. His heart is pounding so hard they can all hear it. _Lub-dub_. _Lub-dub_. The sound forms a perfect soundtrack as he holds the deadly gamepiece and pulls the trigger.

_Click_

The boy sobs, with relief or fear. He is safe, but there are still three more boys. The boy with dark blond hair pats the brown-haired boy on the shoulder. A small, insignificant sign of comfort.

The next boy. His hair is three different colors, a few strands of it hanging around his face. He takes the gun without hesitation. Only the way he closes his eyes as he positions the gun reveals how afraid he is.

_Click_

His eyes shoot open and he hands the gun off. The next player, a tanned boy with light blond hair, looks grimly at it. He, the second-to-last one, has a fifty-fifty chance. His hands are shaking so badly he can hardly hold the gun steady. Finally, he pulls the trigger.

_Click_

The boys-the survivors-freeze. Slowly, they turn their heads to face the last boy, his white hair forming a curtain over his eyes.

So, he is the one. The damned one. Five pairs of eyes watch in slient horror as he reaches out and prys the weapon of death from the tanned boy's fingers. He looks at the gun, then back at his friends, savoring his last moments with them.

What would it be like? Would it hurt, or would he feel nothing? How long would it take? Would it all end immediatly, or would he have to watch his friends sorrow as his life slowly ebbed away before them? Why did it have to be him, anyway? He hadn't wanted it to happen to any of the other boys, but he certainly hadn't wanted it to be himself.

He turns the gun in his hands, stalling as a sudden sense of panic raises in him. He didn't want to go! Not now-not like this! There were so many things he had wanted to do! Why had he agreed to join in this sick game in the first place? What force had possessed him and made him do it? He looks at the ground and there, amid all the burned-out cigarettes and empty beer cans, he finds an answer. He hadn't wanted to be a coward.

_"Just one round," _Ryuji had said, showing them all his gun. "_Just to see if we've got any guts."_

None of them had liked it. But they weren't cowards, so they had agreed. And now, as the affect of the alcohol was starting to wear off, they are realizing the consequences. But it's too late to back out now. It's his turn, and there can be no turning back.

The white-haired boy turns to the boy with the dark blond hair.

"Jono, tell my parents...and Ryou...I'm sorry." He takes on last look at the boys he had been proud to call his friends. "Good bye." No! There's still one thing he has to do! He steps towards the tan boy, who is still frozen in shock.

"Marik...I love you." The white-haired boy raises the gun and - staring directly into Marik's eyes - pulls the trigger.

_BANG_

Birds fly up. The boy plumments down. At first, silence. Then...

"BAKURA!" The boys scream as they find their voices.

When Bakura had pulled the trigger, he had at first felt nothing. Then, a white-hot agonizing pain ripped through him. As everything began going dark around him, an icy hand seemed to grip his heart. Then...nothing.

The five remaining boy stand around their friend, sobbing as his body goes cold. A stange look of peace graces his features. To the untrained eye, he simply appears to be in a deep sleep.

Marik falls to his knees and buries his face in Bakura's chest, crying. His hand brushes against something cold and metallic. He looks. The gun is still clenched in Bakura's stiffening hand.

With an anguished cry, Marik rips it away and throws it into the bushes.

"Never again!" he sobs. "Never!"

The other boys nod in solemn agreement. Never again would they lose a friend in this way. Never again would they play this twisted, evil game of death.

Somewhere, he's not quite sure where, Bakura watches his friends. He watches as Marik and the others carefully lift his body. And, somehow, he is happy.

"_At least I told him before I lost everything_."

**Well, the ending could have been a bit better, but I honestly wasn't sure how else to end it. Still, sort of a bittersweet ending, ne?**

**Just in case this confuses anyone, I'm going to say who the characters were. The first one was Ryuji (Duke), the second was Jonouchi (Joey), the third was Honda (Tristan), the fourth was supposed to be Yami (I know, it sorta sounded like Yugi, but they both look the same, so I described it as best I could), the fifth boy was (obviously) Marik (the hikari), and of course the last boy was Bakura. Just so no one gets confused.**


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